Time Is Running Out
by Unstable Firestarter
Summary: Breakdown Series 1. Just before all chaos breaks out in Radiant Garden, Braig is forced to push Dyme away for the musician's own good, though his actions aren't seen as beneficial in the eyes of the other. Braig/Dyme


**A/N:** Okay, so, I've decided to start posting the Breakdown series here too, as well as on my dA account, and this needs a biiiiit of background information to start with so it makes sense. Okay, so our blonde rockstar here is Dyme, AKA, Demyx's Somebody. He went on a hiatus from his music career, slipping off to Radiant Gardens for a while, and ended up staying at the castle there with Ansem and the apprentices. Along the way, he ends up falling in love with Braig-going to prove that Dyme is not straight, but bi. However, things don't really go well, as is explained here. This takes place right before all hell breaks lose in RG, and the whole darkness, turning into Nobodies thing is supposed to happen. I think that's about it for explaining wise, but if not, feel free to ask.

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**Time Is Running Out**

"…What?" the blonde said, freezing exactly where he was, his arms having been in the process of wrapping around the older man's shoulders.

"I just think it'd be a good idea for you to get back home, you know, continue your career," the brunette scientist said, "I'm sure there's a lot of people who miss you."

"I…I don't understand…" he said, teal eyes blinking in confusion as he dropped his arms back to his sides and took a few steps away, "I thought you wanted me to stay?" That was the impression he was under-that's what Braig had said that day, however long ago it'd been now.

"It'd be selfish to keep you here forever," the older said with a smile, "You have fans, and a whole lifetime of music to write."

He took another step back, still struggling to process what he was hearing. "I don't _want_ to go back yet," the rockstar declared firmly, his eyes blazing as he crossed his arms over his chest, exactly like a spoiled prince who was used to getting his way all of the time.

Braig's smile faltered for a moment-he'd had a feeling this was going to be difficult though, "Well _I_ want you to."

The younger leaned forward a little, his gaze never leaving the other, "If I go back, I want you to come with me," he stated in a very no-nonsense tone.

"You know I can't do that, I have work to do here," the scientist reminded him.

"Then I'm not going anywhere," he said, straightening again, his eyes showing confidence that he was going to win this debate.

"Dammit, Dyme," Braig sighed, starting to lose his patience at the blonde's stubbornness, "I'm tryin' to do this for your own good."

"My own good?" the rockstar repeated skeptically with a snort and raised eyebrow.

The older nodded briefly, "For your safety."

"_My safety?_" Dyme repeated again, barking out a bitter laugh, "You've seen my scars, my arms, you know my addictions-drugs, violence, sex-do I _really_ look like someone who gives even one _fuck_ about my own safety?"

"I'm sick and tired of you being here. I want you to get out of my room, out of my life, and leave me in peace." The words were harsh and bitter, sounding completely sincere though they weren't, a last resort that he hadn't wanted things to come to, but the blonde was too stubborn for his own good.

They had their desired effect though, as Dyme blinked and took a step back, looking as though he'd been slapped. The fiery defiance swiftly melted from his eyes, replaced by a small bit of hurt and an even larger bit of confusion. This was the third reason he'd been given for why he should leave, but this one felt the most honest to him for some reason-probably because he'd been fearing something like this for a long time now.

"Is…that really it?" he managed calmly, though his voice was close to a whisper.

Braig shrugged, playing this off like it was nothing to him, "Yeah. Guess you were right all along; I don't love you. It just took me a while to figure it out."

"But…then…why…why did you want me to stay before?" the blonde stammered. Being a highly insecure person, he was quite likely to believe this, no matter how much he wished against it.

"This is now, and things change every day. Really, you're not so stupid that you didn't realize that?" the brunette said, raising a brow.

"You're not…serious, right? You can't be…serious," Dyme said, his eyes widening a bit.

The older sighed again, appearing quite irritated by the blonde's persistence, "Stupid fuckin' kid, just go."

"How…how can you say that?" the rockstar managed, feeling his stomach drop away at Braig's words. This…wasn't happening, right?

"Very easily," Braig said, though that was a lie, "Now pack and get the fuck outta here."

"_NO!_" Dyme shouted, some thread of sanity snapping, something that made him go against all his better judgment.

Without any warning, he moved forward, throwing a punch. It was swift and unexpected, and he managed to catch Braig off guard, the punch connecting squarely. The second one though was a miss as Braig ducked under his arm, tackling the blonde. Dyme stumbled back a few steps, but managed to keep his balance, driving an elbow into the brunette's back and escaping his grasp. Again, he threw a punch, his whirlwind of emotions stripping him of the usual finesse he displayed in brawls-the rockstar was also a street fighter, after all-but again Braig dodged.

Again, the brunette tackled him, and this time Dyme went down hard, losing his footing when he was hit. He grunted when his back met the floor, not pausing a moment though, and fisted one hand in the shoulder of Braig's hoodie, trying to yank him off, while delivering a sharp punch to his stomach. This whole little fight was about to end very quickly though-Braig didn't want to _have_ to do this, but he felt he had no choice at the current moment.

When the first blow landed on his side-his bad side, where there were three ribs that had never healed properly from being broken six years ago when he'd been smashed with a fire extinguisher, Dyme's eyes widened, and he sucked in a breath. The second blow stole that breath he'd just pulled into his lungs, and made him cry out in pain-oh, he shoulder never have slipped that day, the day he'd decided to explain his injuries to Braig, because this was what he got in return. By the time the third and final hit landed, the blonde was in _tears_, his hands fisted in the brunette's hair as he tried to yank the older off of him.

"Get off!" Dyme gasped through the pain which spread like lances of fire through his side, unbidden tears falling down his cheeks, "Get away from me."

In his haste to scramble awkwardly to his feet, one hand over his throbbing side, he missed Braig's pained expression-he hadn't meant to hurt the teen as much as he obviously had, but what was done was done. Nothing would change that now, nothing would remedy either Dyme's physical pain or his emotional pain.

"I hate you!" the blonde rasped, blood flecking his lips as he whimpered in pain, his vision blurred with tears, "I fucking hate you so much."

It felt like a rib had cracked again, or maybe worse, all he really knew was that it _hurt_, and that the only person in any of the worlds that he loved-the only _guy_ he'd ever had feelings for, on top of all that-was the one who had caused it.

"You'll get what you want, you son of a bitch," Dyme said miserably, trying to cover up his heartache with anger, "I'll leave; you'll never have to see my f-face again." His slight stammer was caused from his breath hitching in his chest as renewed pain flared in his side as he turned to start to go.

Just as he was turning towards the door though, something suddenly caught his gaze; the gift he'd gotten Braig, the sterling silver picture frame with its cluster of diamonds in one corner that had cost him nearly two thousand munny. Moving swiftly towards it, he snatched it up from where it sat, only gazing briefly at the picture that it held, and then hurled it to the ground as hard as he could. The glass shattered instantly upon impact, one of the corners crumpled, and a bright speck flew through the air-most likely one of the diamonds.

Without another glance at Braig, the blonde spun on his heel, wrenching open the door and storming out of the room, trying his hardest not to limp while he was still within sight. As soon as he'd slammed the door and was making his way down the hall towards his own room though, he allowed himself to limp, trying to find a way to walk that caused less pain. Somehow he managed to figure out where he was going though his vision was horribly blurred by the hot tears that streaked down his face.

This was horrible…a nightmare. His heart ached, there was a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, he was trembling all over, and his side hurt so much. Somehow though, he managed to get to his room, drag his duffle bags out from the closet, and begin to throw his belongings into them. Snatching up various articles of clothing, he paused at one hoodie he came across, hesitating a moment before bringing it close to his face and inhaling deeply. Yeah…that's what he'd thought; this was Braig's hoodie. After a moment more of hesitating and a failed attempt to choke back more tears, he finally threw the hoodie in with the rest of his stuff.

It took him a little longer than it probably should have to pack, but he wanted to make sure he didn't leave a single thing behind-not a scrap of paper, not a single needle, nothing. He wanted to leave this room as empty and bare as it'd been when he'd first arrived. Before he moved to pick up the bags, he went slowly over to the mirror, gingerly lifting his shirt and jacket to see his side. It was already a nasty shade of black and purple, swollen too, and he winced, biting his lip in a vain attempt to hold back more tears.

Somehow managing to lift both his duffle bags, resting one over his shoulder so that it wouldn't accidentally bump into his side, he made his way from the castle. He supposed it was just his luck to discover that it was storming out, the sky dark with clouds, occasionally lit up by lightning, while rain poured down in a gray haze. The blonde paused for a moment to pull up the hood of his jacket, and then headed out into the downpour. Dyme walked for some distance in silence, not pausing or looking back though his side throbbed with each step he took.

At last, he couldn't take it anymore, the nagging in the back of his mind was just too much to bear, and he stopped, turning back towards the castle. Standing there, he tilted his head up a bit to be able to see from under the soaked hood of his jacket, fresh tears falling from his teal eyes as he gazed at the structure. His eyes swept over the various windows, and he couldn't help but wonder if Braig stood in one of them, watching him, glad he was leaving.

For weeks he'd been in that castle, for weeks he'd floundered with the realization that he'd been falling in love with a guy. He'd finally gotten up the nerve to confess his feelings after many of those weeks, after their first bout of angry sex, and all their fights. He'd received nothing in response, just a babbled excuse to escape, but still he'd pressed on, flirting shamelessly every chance he got, reminding the brunette of his feelings. That one day that the older had seemed to return his affection, the one time their love making had been more passion-and maybe just lust?-than anything else, he'd been thrilled, but still…there was never those three little words he longed to hear.

For weeks he'd patiently and not so patiently waited for a change in the other, to see some true affection in return, but it'd all been useless. He'd wasted weeks of his life here, waiting around for a guy who obviously didn't give a fuck about him, now it was time to return to his life. He missed his home anyway, though he'd never been overly fond of the city, it was far too boring in comparison, here in Radiant Gardens. The Shadowed City; that's where he belonged, where he was going to return to.

"So long, jackass," Dyme muttered under his breath, turning his eyes away from the castle before adding in a whisper, "I love you…"

Then he turned, bowing his head against the rain again, and continued on his way. He was never going to return here again, he was sure of it-he had no reason to return; there was nothing important to him left here.

-------------------------------------------~

The roar of the crowd filled his ears, the strobes that lit the stage sweeping over him and revealing him in random snippets. This was his grand return concert, and he was dressed to impress; dark blue leather pants that were skin tight, split open down the sides and held together with black cord, all tucked neatly into knee high black boots adorned with numerous zippers, straps, and buckles. He was bare-chested, as usual, a half length leather jacket covering his arms, the stiff, high collar curving elegantly around his neck, the color matching his pants. Chains dangled from the shoulders of his jacket, catching in the lights whenever he moved, matching the silver chains draped around his neck.

His earrings were in place, a black musical note dangling from his left ear while a thin black chain looped from the top to the bottom of his right ear, and as usual, he was adorned with body paint. This time it was a Chinese dragon wrapping itself around his back, stomach, and chest in striking shades of blue and silver while red and gold flames billowed from its open mouth. His messy blonde hair was gelled to perfection, a few strands falling over his wide teal eyes that gave no clue of the heartache he'd been through just a few weeks previous.

"You're all looking lively tonight," he said into the mic as he cradled the top of the stand in both hands, flashing a grin when he received piercing cheers in response, "Did you miss me?"

While he didn't _look_ like anything was wrong, his heart was still in pieces. For the weeks that he'd been back in the City, he'd spent either numerous sleepless nights when he simply couldn't rest, or equally numerous nights where he cried to the point of exhaustion, and though he passed out and slept deeply, he still awoke tired and cranky. He just couldn't seem to get that stupid brunette out of his head, he couldn't fucking get over Braig. He tried to tell himself that there was no reason to be so hung up-the brunette didn't give a damn about him, so maybe the rockstar had been mistaken in the first place with thinking he was in love.

"I sure missed all of you," Dyme continued without missing a beat, giving the impression that nothing at all was wrong, "We're going to _rock_ tonight-this is my grand return concert, and I've got a few new songs that you're just going to _love_."

Try as he might though, he couldn't lie to himself-he loved Braig, and he wasn't going to just get over it. It's not like they'd actually _had_ much of anything though, so there wasn't much to forget. Sure, they'd slept together twice, but if you compared that to all the one night stands the rockstar'd had, it was merely a pebble dropping into the ocean. Of course…those were the only two times he'd slept with a _guy_, and he'd honestly never be able to forget that. He couldn't even lie to himself; tell himself that it hadn't been that good-because it'd been just the opposite.

If he did succeed in getting to sleep at night, ninety percent of the time he ended up dreaming of Braig-sometimes more than once. Whether it was just something simple, such as hugging him, or getting a smile from him, he was always there. Sometimes it was so much more than that though, and Dyme's dreams would be filled with memories of the feel of the brunette's hands, the taste of his kiss, the warmth of his body, the sounds he made. Equally as often, they were nightmares, as he would relive that last day on which he left, the moment when his rib cracked, the moment Braig stated that he didn't love the blonde and never wanted to see him again.

Depending on the dreams, Dyme would either end up waking up drenched in sweat or hugging his pillow to his chest crying his eyes out. Either way, things weren't going well. He'd discovered that he had no dreams when he was high, and he once more fell deeply into that, completely abandoning what he'd been going to attempt before-besides, Braig wasn't around to keep his promise any more. Drugs were his lullaby, soothing him into a peaceful sleep, and yet…he found he was reluctant to resort to that sometimes-sometimes he _wanted_ to dream about the brunette, on the chance that it would be a sweet dream, even though he'd just wake up with a renewed pang in his chest.

Every night before he attempted to sleep, or paced around his bedroom trying to get _back_ to sleep, the blonde would end up with the one picture he had of himself and Braig. They looked so young and goofy and…happy. He was practically hanging on the brunette's back, arms wrapped around Braig's neck, while the older was struggling to keep his balance, one arm around Dyme's waist to steady them both, but most of all…they were both smiling-to some extent. Though Braig's wasn't really the dazzling grin the rockstar wore, it was still a smile nonetheless.

He treasured this picture so much, though every time he looked at it, he ended up crying. As much as he told himself he hated Braig, he would never be able to give up this picture, or the hoodie that he'd stolen upon leaving the castle. After all, the picture would forever remind him of that happy day, before everything had been torn to pieces. No matter how much time passed though, his heart would still ache.

-------------------------------------------~

He was hitting an all time low. He didn't know how many weeks, how many months had passed since he'd returned home, but he was slowly sinking down deeper and deeper, his outlook on things more bitter than ever. His career was going well, in fact they'd just hired a new handful of back-up singers for his next couple of concerts, and all the girls were talented, but it wasn't his career that was affecting him. The blonde rockstar was still haunted by nightmares, plagued by memories of the only man he'd ever loved.

His side ached more frequently than before too, and he knew it was because of the new break that had occurred-curse Braig for that. The drugs helped though, and he relied on them more than ever now to get by from day to day. They killed the pain, killed the dreams, and then he could sleep at night. He no longer hoped for a sweet dream of the brunette, he hoped for no dreams of him at all. He was trying so hard to force the scientist from his thoughts, but he failed continuously. It was driving him insane, his inability to forget and move on. If he couldn't get over this, he'd rather die-at least then he'd be at peace and he'd never have another sleepless night ever again.

Dyme muttered to himself as he paced back and forth in his dressing room at the studio. They'd just had a rehearsal earlier to help orientate all the new girls with the songs and everything, and he'd managed to keep up a façade of normality, though now it had slipped. He wanted to forget everything that had happened, everything he'd experienced in Radiant Gardens. He wanted it gone, all of it, some way or another, no matter what it took. Anything…he'd do…anything…

That last thought made him stop mid-step, his gaze swinging around to the small gym bag that sat on the couch. He hesitated a moment, biting his lip, and then swiftly strode over to it, picking up the bag and rummaging through it until he found what he was looking for. Gazing at the twin needles he now held in one hand, he sat down on the floor, leaning back against the side of the couch. Two…that would be all he'd need, he thought, two at the same time, one after the other. And if it didn't work…well, two was all he had with him, so if he survived, he'd just have to try again.

It wasn't like anyone was going to take his drugs away from him, or force him into rehab-his agents knew better than that, he had them wrapped around his finger. He was Sylver Dyme after all, and he always got what he wanted, _always_.

He let his head tilt back against the couch when he was through, dropping the needles off to the side, faintly hearing them hit the floor. He blinked up at the ceiling as the haze started to wrap around him, smiling briefly. The blonde was already lulling into peace, feeling like he was floating. Ah, this was so much better; no more pain, no more worries. In fact, he already couldn't even remember what he'd been so worried about to land him in this situation. All he knew, as his eyes slipped shut, was that he was calm, and content, and hoped he could stay like this forever…


End file.
